


Shards in the Nexus: Dragon Age

by Dimensional_Nexus



Series: Shards in the Nexus [3]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, F/F, Incomplete ideas given a home
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 01:42:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17013162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dimensional_Nexus/pseuds/Dimensional_Nexus
Summary: A collection of ideas that haven't been fully fleshed out but I wanted to put down. Descriptions in the summary are for the idea as a whole. Each chapter is a single scene/chapter, occasionally with a tease for the larger story.Ch. 1: Servant of the Creed (Assassin's Creed): She was bound to two oaths. To end the Blight, and to ensure the people were free.





	Shards in the Nexus: Dragon Age

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea for-fucking-ever ago and I'm only now getting it written down. Elissa's mentor is based on Ezio and her own story is as well, with a little Altaïr-style humbling thrown in.

The city of Amaranthine was in the throes of a celebration. It had been two years since the traitorous Couslands had fallen at the hands of their Arl and they had enjoyed great prosperity ever since. The city was decorated, stalls were set up for food and games, and everyone seemed to be in high spirits. The din was enough that it echoed out over the waves and across the deck of a ship pulling into the harbor. A lone figure stood apart from the hustle and bustle of the crew, staring out over the city in stoic silence, their shoulders tense.

 

"Not a fan of parties, my friend?" the Captain, a slim Rivaini man, asked from over their shoulder.

 

"Only when there's something worth celebrating," the figure replied, the feminine voice's accent betraying her Fereldan heritage.

 

"I've never heard the proper story, but they say that the-shit what's the title? Parl?"

 

"Arl."

 

"That's right, the Arl of Amaranthine discovered a plot against the King of Ferelden and was able to stomp it out before it began. The other family's lands and wealth became his and he's been rather generous with it."

 

"Perhaps, or perhaps he murdered his best friend and his family, down to the last child, and stole it."

 

"That's a bold claim, and not one I'd repeat around here."

 

She simply turned to him, an enigmatic smile on her lips, the only part of her face visible from underneath her strange hood with its beaked tip. "Maybe I'll get a chance to ask the Arl himself. They say he likes to walk among his people during the festivities."

 

The Captain gave her a pointed look, "Don't do anything stupid."

 

She didn't reply, merely turned back towards the mainland.

 

* * *

 

"Arl Howe, I must insist we speak somewhere more privately, our business is too delicate for a public venue."

 

"Nonsense, Duncan, just speak more carefully, I refuse to stay cooped up in the Keep while my people celebrate my victory."

 

Duncan kept his face carefully neutral, resisting the urge to bury a blade in Rendon Howe's back. Bryce Cousland was no traitor, but he had been ignored at every step, told that his relationship with the Teyrn had blinded him. But the darkspawn were rising again, and he knew that his hatred of Howe would have to be put aside until his men and supplies were no longer needed. It made Duncan feel wretched, like he was defiling the graves of those whose lives had been lost, but many more would be killed if the darkspawn weren't stopped. He took a deep breath, "Very well. Is there anyone among your men who you think could assist me on my task?"

 

"I have a few candidates that come to mind, but there will be time for that tomorrow. Come, enjoy the festivities, you and your men must be exhausted from your journey."

 

Duncan held in a sigh. There was no arguing with the man, especially when it was likely to get heated. He could not afford to alienate the Arl, regardless of his personal feelings. Not to mention the frankly ridiculous personal entourage that surrounded him. "In the morning then."

 

"That's the spirit," Howe said, clapping him on the shoulder with a serpentine grin.

 

Duncan let him depart, glaring at his back once his attention was elsewhere. Deciding that he was entirely too sober to deal further with the weasel, Duncan headed for the nearest tavern. The other Wardens shared a look, neither had ever seen their Commander so frustrated.

 

* * *

 

The hooded woman stood atop the city's wall, carefully watching the small stage that had been erected below, awaiting the  _illustrious_  Arl Howe's speech to the people of his city. No doubt he would crow endlessly about his accomplishments and further slander the Couslands, repeating the lies into infinity. It made her furious, but she assauged her rising anger with the knowledge that soon she would carve his tongue from his skull. She sat silently, like a large predator waiting to pounce, silently extending and sheathing the blade on the underside of her wrist. It felt as if the ghosts of her family were with her, encouraging her to avenge them, to refute every one of Howe's lies in front of the people growing fat on their stolen wealth. 

 

So intent was she on the ground below that she did not notice the quiet whistling behind her until it was almost too late. She cursed quietly and threw herself over the edge, twisting in midair to catch the ledge. She held her breath and nearly cursed again as she heard a rustle of cloth and the whistling stay just above her. No doubt a guard taking a break to watch the speech.

 

A roar rippled through the crowd behind her and she carefully twisted to look, seeing Howe making his way onto the stage. When he stopped in the center of the stage, she had to bite back yet another curse, she was in no position to be able to reach him from her awkward position, not to mention that her fingers and legs were beginning to burn. Two choices, try and deal with the guard and risk people below hearing, or take the leap and try her best.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, good people of Amaranthine, I thank you for this lavish celebration."

 

Another roar through the crowd.

 

"I thank Andraste everyday that I managed to root out the conspirators in Highever before they could bring further harm upon our beloved Ferelden..."

 

She saw red. Making a quick calculation, she raised up a bit, tensed her legs and leapt.

 

"It was with a heavy heart that I brought my once friend to just-agh!"

 

Her anger had made her sloppy. She'd landed just short of Howe and her ankle had collapsed under her. Growling, she'd stood and tackled him as best she could, just barely able to stab him in the side, "Murderous traitor!"

 

"Guards!" He cried, terror and pain making his voice shrill. All at once, ten men descended on the two of them. She was able to stab Howe once more before they pulled her bodily away.

 

"Let go of me!" she roared, struggling. She was able to pierce the throat of one before another punched her in the gut. She doubled over but grit her teeth to deny them the satisfaction of hearing her cry out.

 

"Who would dare?" Howe hissed, clutching his side, clearly apoplectic.

 

"A ghost," she muttered, "here to see you pay for your crimes."

 

Howe gestured for one of the men to remove her hood and turned white as a sheet when he met her eyes. "Not possible."

 

"That was what my father thought, when your men stormed Highever! That was what my mother thought, holding the bodies of my brother's wife and child in her arms! You are a snake, Howe, a treacherous coward who didn't even have the courage to look my family in the eyes as they were murdered!" Elissa Cousland cried.

 

"Lies!" Howe immediately crowed. "I know not how you survived the purging of your treasonous family, but it is a mistake I will correct. No better way to end a party than with a public execution!"

 

The crowd cheered, cursing her family's name loudly and she fought again to free herself. Her death mattered little as long as she took Howe with her. A little voice in the back of her head was berating her at length about how stupid and amateurish this had been. It sounded like her late Mentor, the man who had spirited her away the night of the attack on Highever.

 

_"Princesa, listen to me, that thirst for revenge is going to blind you, ruin your judgment, and get you killed. Is Rendon Howe a piece of shit for what he did to your family? Of course, but throwing yourself into the viper's mouth will only end with your death. Plan carefully, plant a seed of doubt in his people's mind to erode his power, strike when he is vulnerable, these are the things I have taught you. Remember the Creed."_

 

She grimaced, she had not only forgotten the Creed, she had broken every tenet. Striking in the open, risking the lives of the innocents present. Not to mention that her open attack would draw attention to the Brotherhood. The realization was like ice in her veins, making her hang her head in shame. She tried not to picture her Mentor's kind eyes, his warm smile, knowing he would forgive her whether or not she forgave herself. It had been his way, turning every mistake into an opportunity to teach.

 

As Elissa wallowed in self-recrimination, Howe whipped the crowd up even further, stoking their bloodlust.

 

"Enough!" A voice cried from within the masses. All turned to see Duncan striding toward the stage, righteous fury storming in his eyes.

 

"Come to see the show, Warden?" Howe's expression was anything but kind, knowing how much it would hurt the man to see another Cousland meet their end.

 

"No, I am invoking the Rite of Conscription, any crime she has committed, she will pay for on the front lines against the darkspawn."

 

"Now, now, is this scum really worth the effort?" Howe's eyes were murderous, and the crowd bayed for the young woman's blood.

 

Duncan was many things, a stalwart commander in the face of anything, a terror on the battlefield, a friend to his subordinates. One thing he never got enough credit for was how sneaky he could be. He knew it was a bad idea to reveal what he was about to reveal, but it was his best chance of saving the last of the Couslands in Ferelden. "Every sword is needed, Arl, you know this. We are on the edge of a Blight, more darkspawn are appearing in the South every day." He let his voice become pleading, presenting the situation as only a little more dire than it currently was.

 

The crowd stilled, horror tempering their anger.

 

"A Blight?"

 

"Here in Ferelden?"

 

Duncan allowed a small smirk to pull up the corner of his lip but quickly tamped his satisfaction down. The Wardens had lost some respect in Ferelden, but fear of a Blight in their homeland was a powerful motivator. Howe's fury showed on his face for barely a second before he schooled his features.

 

"Very well, Warden, you may have her." He waved his hands and the guards all but threw the woman off the stage. She landed in a heap, her eyes still staring blankly into the distance. "As well as any support Amaranthine can offer against the darkspawn."

 

Duncan waved his Wardens forward, keeping his gaze locked with Howe's, knowing that the man valued saving face over damn near everything and enjoying this small revenge. It paled in comparison to the man's crimes, but, looking at the young woman whose life he'd both saved and ended, he knew Howe would reap what he had sown one day.

 

* * *

 

Leliana sighed deeply, watching Herah and Sera on the dance floor, the sight causing a deep ache in her heart. They were still in the beginings of their romance, all loving eyes and flirtatious banter. It both stung and overjoyed her.

 

"Would you like to dance, milady?" She gave the dashing young Orlesian a once over, before shaking her head.

 

"I am afraid my preferred partner is away, and I once promised I'd only dance with them." Leliana smiled a bit at the memory. Who would've thought the vaunted Warden-Commander, Master Assassin, and Hero of Ferelden would have two left feet on the dance floor? Then again, none of those titles had been the charming young woman she'd met all those years ago in Orlais before the betrayals they had both suffered. She had kept that promise, and the memory of it and the kiss she had stolen the next day had kept her sustained throughout her imprisonment. Still sustained her while the woman she loved sought to free herself from the death sentence that had once saved her life.

 

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Chin up, maybe she will show up before the night is over," he said with a smirk. Something in his eyes or his tone gave her pause, like he knew somethin-

 

"How did you know I was talking about a woman?" Neither her face nor her relationship with Elissa were well-known, she'd made sure of that.

 

"Call it a hunch," he replied and walked away, vanishing into the crowd moments later. So well that she actually lost sight of him.

 

_An Assassin, then. What is going on?_  She trained her eyes harder on the crowd, but saw nothing else suspicious. Trusting in her love, she resolved to sit back and let things play out. 

 

Later, as the Empress moved to speak to the assembled crowd, all hell broke loose. All around the ballroom, figures drew weapons and dove at the gathered members of the Inquisition. At the same time, a loud whistle echoed through the room and yet more people emerged from the crowd, dispatching the would-be assassins with ease.

 

Leliana had only just begun to dodge the strike of the woman who'd come for her when a figure dropped from the ceiling, flattening the woman out and swiftly plunging a hidden blade into her throat. The figure slowly stood. They were dressed in black and red robes, a beaked hood pulled over their face.

 

For the first time in a long time, Leliana truly smiled, "I could have taken her."

 

"Yes, but I like to make an entrance," Elissa replied, turning and lowering her hood, revealing the same beautiful face she'd fallen in love with so many years ago. It was a little tanner than it had been and had a few more scars, but her eyes were still the same ocean blue, her grin still carrying that hint of mischief. "Now, let us sort out this intrigue before I claim that dance."

 

"Orlesian political drama, assassination, and a heroic rescue. How romantic of you to recreate our first date."

 

"How did that end again?"

 

"Here, let me show you." With that, Leliana grabbed the front of the taller woman's tunic and pulled her down until their lips met.


End file.
